…is a Trader Joe’s ice cream sandwich.
I remember this from the end of my last pregnancy: you can only eat tiny amounts of food at a time, because your stomach is located somewhere in your vertebrae and smushed to the size of a pea. What this means is that I’ve gotten really weird-specific about what I want to ingest. It has nothing to do with nutrition, the time of day, the amount of ice cream I have already eaten over the past twenty-four hours…all it has to do with is WANT THAT NOW.
For example:
I no longer want peaches, strawberries, mangos, or any of the other fruits that I’ve spent the past nine months obsessing over. Instead, I would like cantaloupe and watermelon, and all of it, please.
I also no longer want Haagen-Dasz Chocolate-Chocolate Chip ice cream, even though I ate it every single night starting around Month Two. Instead, I would like Trader Joe’s ice cream sandwiches and Caribbean Fruit Floes (I bought them with no real idea what a “fruit floe” might be and discovered that they could have really just called it a “popsicle,” but no matter because it is so very good).
I want pasta, but only this very specific type from Whole Foods (which means that it is also inexplicably expensive). And I do not want it with anything other than little balls of fresh mozzarella and halved cherry tomatoes and this kind of olive oil, but not that kind.
I want sweet corn with butter and honey and salt on it.
I want Carnation Instant Breakfast, Rich Chocolate flavor, but only if it is made in a blender with exactly three ice cubes (I’m completely serious).
I want ALL OF THE WATER IN THE WORLD. Bonus points if it is infused with fruit and sparkles.
And that is all that I want. I do not want anything else.
In short, I have turned into a massive culinary pain in the ass who must make three separate trips to three separate stores in order to consume anything at all. I’m sure I’m lovely to live with these days.
#onlytwoweekstogo
